Desert Stopover
by Caesar Augustus Plutarch
Summary: Daria and Trent, fresh from a grim task in Los Angeles, stop at a convenience store in the Sonoran Desert.


Desert Stopover

by C.A.P.

It was blazing hot. Not surprising as it was an early summer afternoon in the Arizona Desert. It could not be anything else but Brenda Talbois grabbed her pack of cigarettes and walked out of the convenience store/gas station anyway. The odds of the owner surprising her while smoking inside were nil but she still stepped outdoors away from the a/c. Perspiring for a few minutes was worth the moderate change of scenery.

She stayed in the shade that the awning over the gas pumps provided and lit a _Pall Mall_ ignoring all of the _no smoking within fifty feet_ signs. It was not as if some busybody was going to pop from the desert screaming 'the horror' or anything. There had not been five cars that stopped since noon. Not many more than that even drove by. US Highway 60 ran right pass the store but that did mean a thing. Anyone going anywhere used Interstate 10. If you were here you were a local or lost.

She took a long drag and wondered for the ten thousandth time why she bothered to stay. She finished her Associate's Degree at ArizonaWestern but kept delaying going on to Arizona State for one reason or another. Four years later the excuses kept her working at a dead end job three miles from the unofficial middle of nowhere. Sure she was an extra pair of eyes and ears for her family. She picked up some useful information here and there. Maybe a few minutes warning at times but what was really in it for her?

She was crushing the remnant of her cigarette under her boot when the black SUV appeared from the haze of the horizon. Seconds later she identified it as a _Cadillac Escalade_. Years working beside a highway honed her knowledge of car makes and brands.

It took her a moment longer to realize that it was slowing.

Brenda's stomach lurched as it turned from the highway. Several bullet holes dotted the passenger side not that she had much time to notice them. The driver ignored the fuel pumps directing the vehicle to the rear of the store where it could not be seen from the road. Tinted windows prevented closer view of the occupants.

She rushed inside sliding behind the checkout counter. Eyes on the security monitor, hand on her .38, she watched two people emerge from the car. The man was lanky, dark hair and clean shaven: dark slacks, light probably white shirt, dark sports jacket. He grabbed a large leather bag from the back seat before scampering to the other side.

A short woman slid from the passenger seat. Lace up boots, jeans, a light colored blouse and a dark windbreaker that failed to hide the large stain on her shirt. She was bleeding. Might be more blood on the jeans. The condition of the SUV suggested that she had been shot.

She took the man's offered arm but was steady as they walked to the back door. Brenda groaned. She forgot to relock it when she took the trash out earlier. Brenda's grip on her pistol tightened when the door opened.

Emerging from the back they quickly took in the layout. The woman peeled toward the restrooms. The man watched her for a moment before strolling toward the clerk.

"I'll drop you in a heartbeat," Brenda growled aiming her revolver squarely at his torso hoping that he could not hear her fear.

"Yeah, probably," the man agreed seemingly unconcerned.

He sat the satchel on the counter pushing it smoothly toward her. "If you really want to intiminate someone you need something like this. First aid supplies?"

Confusion at his manner writ large on her face, Brenda jerked her head once toward an aisle. "Over there."

The man turned his back moving to where she indicated.

"You're well stocked," he said after a half a minute as he grabbed several items.

"Well, you know," she stammered. "It ain't like Walmart's just up the street."

He nodded at the truth of that before disappearing into the ladies room.

Still holding the pistol she pulled the bag closer to her. She fumbled for the zipper. It was only after it was fully undone did she risk tearing her eyes from the lavatory door for a peek inside.

"Son of a bitch," she gasped in awe.

She sat her pistol down to use both hands to extract a _Saiga_ 12 gauge shotgun with a drum magazine. A quick check proved it to be fully loaded. Twenty shells ready to send someone to their Maker. She chuckled thinking about that old movie where the guy sneers at a would be mugger's knife then whipped out his damn near short sword. 'This is a knife' he said. "Yeah," Brenda whispered to herself. "This is a gun. Probably break my shoulder if I shot it but what fool would chance that with this pointed at them?"

Daria sat on the commode. Her bloody blouse wadded up in the sink along with the tissues that she used for emergency padding. Two nine millimeter pistols rest atop the pile. Trent knelt before her examing her wounds. All were on her lower left abdomen. He gently pulled her forward taking in her back.

"You were luckly," Trent said. "Looks like nothing major was hit."

"I would have long since bled out if that had happened," she calmly replied.

"True," Trent conceded. "Three wounds. One grazed you. One went all the way through and I can see the other just below the skin. Shouldn't be too hard to get out."

"And how do you propose to do that?" she asked.

"Swiss Army knife," he replied.

"You're joking," Daria said.

"No, douse it in alcohol to sterilize as best I can," he answered. "It won't be pleasant but I'll be as quick as I can. Whenever you're ready."

"You remember what _Nike_ told us," she said.

Trent grinned tightly. "Just do it."

Brenda heard a quickly stifled cry of pain. It did not take a genius to figure out that the restroom was now a operating room. Whoever she was the woman was rawhide tough. And maybe desperate.

Brenda quickly put all the guns under the counter. She scurried to the back of the store. Retracing the woman's path she saw no blood on the floor but there was a little on one shelf likely where she reached out to balance herself. Getting some spray detergent and a paper towel from the supply closet Brenda quickly cleaned the stain without thinking about as to why she was doing so.

Another car pulled into the store's parking lot.

Brenda creaked opened the door to ladies room . "Deputy just drove up," she said in a stage whisper. "Stay cool."

By the time the policeman ambled into the store Brenda was behind the counter smile plastered on her face. She knew Deputy Rayburn Underwood well. She did not like him although most everyone else did who knew him.

"Hey, Brenda," he said. "How do you come on? Working a double today?"

"Theresa's kid's ailing," she replied. "Bad enough for them to take her to Phoenix."

"Sorry to hear that," the deputy dolefully responded. "I'll make sure that Tina's included in the prayer service tomorrow night."

"That'll be nice," Brenda said.

"Did a SUV with California plates stop by here lately?" he asked.

"No, no SUVs at all," she quickly answered. "Only people from out of state this week was a family from Utah that stopped a couple or three days ago. What did the SUV do?"

"The SUV didn't do a thing except provide a way out of Los Angeles for this couple that blew the hell out of the operations of some drug runners. In the wee hours, they hit this one group dropping couple of dozen including the head honchos then burned down the group's warehouse for good measure. Only a handful escaped the carnage and most of them carrying some lead or shrapnel from grenades," he said.

"Grenades," Brenda exclaimed.

"Yeah, they pulled out all the stops," the deputy answered sternly. "Then to put the cherry on top they repeated the performance a little later and all but wiped out another gang."

"Even with grenades I don't see just two people doing all that," she said.

"There were others," he replied. "Part of their outfit, I guess or they were part of it. Anyway, after they were done they hightailed it out of LA."

"They'd head for Mexico," Brenda said with confidence. "Not Arizona."

"You'd think, wouldn't you," he agreed. "But some witnesses said that two were driving east. How reliable their recollection is I don't know but we got the word to be on the lookout anyway."

"Ok so I-10."

Deputy Underwood nodded. "Yeah," he drawled. "But we want to cover all the bases. They might want to stick to less traveled roads. How's your brother doing?"

"Mike's doing okay," Brenda said adjusting to the abrupt shift in conversation. "He got promoted to petty officer first class last month."

"That's good," he replied. "But I meant Mark."

Her younger brother Mark got out of prison just a few weeks earlier released after serving sixteen months.

"Staying on the straight and narrow," she said with an edge.

He stared at her for a moment. He thought that not being caught doing something illegal lately was not the same as being on the side of the angels no matter what most of the Talbois' thought. He hoped that Mike stayed in the navy and as far away from his family as possible. Maybe there would be one less of that clan he have to arrest. Two less since not even a rumor ever reached his ears about Brenda. Why she was still here was beyond him.

"Straight and narrow, eh? Well, that's great. Hope that he keeps his nose clean," Deputy Underwood replied. "Now, if you will pardon me, I need the facilities."

" _Mi aseo es su inodoro_ ,"¹ she said lightly although there was no humor in her tone.

It was only after he turned toward the restroom did a surge of panic course through her but a quick glance outside told her that he was alone. The county had a couple of female deputies. It would not do for one of them to show up needing a restroom also but if none was riding with him it was not probable that any would arrive. It was a big county and there were only so many cops.

Brenda looked at the monitor. After reassuring herself that no one was prowling around outside she turned it off. Cannot have Underwood spot the _Escalade_ parked out back. The man might have given her the shotgun to keep her calm but she highly doubted that the pair were unarmed. She did not need to the store turned into the _OK Corral_ or having to explain a dead cop to the sheriff. If what Underwood said was true he would not have a rat's chance in a rattlesnake den against them.

It seemed like a long time to Brenda but the deputy finished up in the restroom, bought a soda and a pack of cookies, and returned to patrolling in under five minutes. She waited a bit longer before she called out. "He's gone."

Trent stepped from the restroom to check for himself. He nodded at the clerk before returning to the makeshift surgery.

"Get back at it," she said quietly to herself. "I want you two out of here as soon as possible."

A carload of teens drove up. Gas, beef jerky, and some _Mountain Dews._ A squeal of tires, some lingering smoke that faded moments after they left and then heavy silence.

The minutes stretched. Like she was watching a tennis match Brenda's head went back and forth from watching the road to the ladies room door. A few cars sped past. A dusty battered pickup pulled along side the fuel pumps furthest away from the front door. An elderly man stepped arthritically from the truck. A debit card swipe preceded nine and a half galleons of 90 octane finding a new home while he thought back to when gas stations had attendents that pumped the fuel, checked your oil and cleaned your windshield. With a final reflection on the _good ol ' days_ he was gone with nary a glance toward the store.

An involuntary frightened yip escaped Brenda when she turned to find the pair standing a few feet away. They moved like ghosts. The woman wore only a bra, panties, and her boots. Gauze wrapped around her abdomen secured in place by tape. She held two pistols but they were pointed down. The man had a trash bag that Brenda assumed held her blood stained clothes.

A stack of brightly colored tee shirts caught Daria's attention. Most of them had logos on them with tourists in mind.

"Any of these long enough to preserve modesty?" she asked.

"Not without looking stupid," Brenda answered. "But back there by that carousel of ball caps there are a few sundresses."

"You're just a minimall, aren't you?" Daria quipped heading to where she pointed.

"I saw a steel drum out back that looked like its used to burn stuff in," Trent stated.

Brenda guessed his intention. "Yeah," she said. "Should be some matches and kerosene near it."

Nodding once Trent wordlessly walked away. Brenda turned the monitor back on. She watched as he quickly had a fire going. The size of the blaze would reduce the cloth to ash in minutes. No one would be the least curious if they even noticed a zipper or medal rivets in the drum.

The selection of dresses was limited but Daria found one that would more or less fit. It was blue denim with a southwestern pattern trim. It looked like something her mom might have worn forty years earlier but beggers can't be choosers. She slipped it on before she could flash the next arrivals.

"Doesn't look bad at all," Brenda said politely. Underwood said that the woman left a lot of corpses behind her in LA. She thought that civility was definitely called for.

"It does," Trent confirmed returning. He had her purse in his hand. A nylon satchel hung from one shoulder.

"Thanks," Daria said drily. She took the handbag and placed the pistols inside. "Ready?"

"Hang on," he replied. "Do buses run by here?"

"Yeah," Brenda said. "Couple times a day."

"When's the next one?" Trent asked.

Brenda looked at her watch. "The one that goes to Phoenix should be by in a half-hour or so. It'll pick you up out front if you flag it down if that's what you want."

"The police are searching for a black SUV with California plates," Trent said to Daria.

"I heard the deputy," she replied. "But if it's left here someone's bound to notice it PDQ."²

Trent gave Brenda a small smile as he spoke to Daria. "I'm willing to bet that this young woman can make it disappear with a single call."

Brenda did not bother to pretend otherwise or wonder how he guessed. "Yeah, I can."

Trent placed the car key on the counter. He pulled a stack of bills from the bag. They joined the key. Brenda's eyes widened. The paper band holding the money together said ten thousand dollars.

"The previous owner is beyond caring but I would avoid driving it westward," he said.

"I don't drive hot cars in any direction," she replied.

"Smart," he said. "One last thing. I'd like you to turn the cameras off and erase the securty footage."

"You got it," she said complying immediately.

"Let's go," he said wearily as soon as she was done.

Daria and Trent walked slowly to the edge of the highway. The sun was an hour from setting. A slight breeze blew as the shadows lengthened. The moon just peeked over the eastern horizon. Across the asphalt a jackrabbit hidden under a creosote bush watched them for a few moments before hopping away deeper into the desert.

"How do you feel?" Trent asked.

"Sore," she replied. "Tired but I'm not about to pass out. Could use a hot bath and three days sleep. So what's the plan when we get to Phoenix?"

"Take a train to New York," he answered. "Once I get you home, I'll head on back to my house."

"Call Laura yet?"

"Texted her when I was burning your clothes."

"I'm surprised that you got a signal out here."

"Enough of one," Trent said.

"You shouldn't have come."

"You couldn't have done it alone."

"No, I couldn't have," she admitted. "I don't have your skill set. Furthest I could have gotten was a look at the police reports which had dick. I couldn't have discovered who was involved or gotten the hired help or the ordnance."

"I'm a PI," he said. "It's what I do."

Daria shrugged her shoulders whincing slightly. "True but you didn't have to come along. If I was killed it wouldn't have mattered. You have a wife and three sons."

"I had a sister," he replied flatly.

"I had a friend," she responded.

"A friend that got cut down for no reason," Trent said. "Wrong place. Wrong time. I don't know."

Daria snorted. "What wrong place? She was eating lunch at a bistro in Venice Beach. Not somewhere you'd expect to be caught in a crossfire between rival drug gangs."

Trent rubbed his face. "Whatever. Look, if I try to find rhyme or reason to it all I'll go crazy. I just...I just accept, you know."

Daria grimly smiled. "The LA County morgue wouldn't be overflowing now if you just accepted."

"Yeah," Trent sighed. "A lot to answer for when I stand before the Throne of Judgement."

"Advantage of being an atheist," she replied. "I don't clutter my mind with metaphysical crap."

"Faith is a comfort," Trent said.

"Whatever gets you through the day," Daria replied. "You spent freely back there. Is there enough money in that bag to get us home?"

"I haven't counted it but I think that there's upwards of ninty thousand dollars left in it," he said. "More than enough to cover all the expenses in LA and get us home."

"Vengence on a dead man's dime. Gotta love it," she said. "Here comes the bus. Start waving. I don't think its a good idea for me."

The driver spotted them and rumbled to a halt.

The bus was ten miles further down the road when a car stopped at the store. Two men, one young, one middle-aged rolled from it. Brenda met them.

"There's a _Cadillac Escalade_ out back," she said handing the key to her father. "This couple gave it to me."

"Gave it to you? What's the story?" Mr Talbois asked sceptically walking around the store.

"Heard anything about some shootouts in Los Angeles?" she asked.

"Heard about?" Mr Talbois guffawed. "Ain't nothing else on _CNN_ or _Fox_. Someone took the War on Drugs literally. _Escalade_ part of it?"

"Probably. Underwood came around asking if I'd seen a SUV with California plates," she said. "It was sitting right here all the time he was inside but he took me at my word when I said that I hadn't so he never bother to look around. The couple were in the ladies room. She was wounded some and her man was fixing her up when Underwood stopped by."

"He'd dropped a load in his pants if he knew," Mark laughed.

Brenda gave her brother an irritated look. She did not like the deputy but she did not doubt his courage. They would have killed him but he would not have ran.

"He asked after you, Mark," she said.

"Yeah, I bet he did," Mark replied sourly.

Mr Talbois examined the SUV. It was less then two years old and in fabulous shape other than the seven bullets holes.

"We'll hide it in the barn for a week or so then drive it down to Tucson," he said. "Get a pretty penny from Sanderson, for sure. Anything else, Brenda?"

She decided that they did not need to know about the money that the man gave her. "The driver left behind a _Saiga_ 12 gauge with a twenty round drum," she replied. "It's sitting under the counter."

"Holy crap,"Mark exclaimed. "I gotta see that."

"Take it," she said. "Just get it and the car out of here before another cop shows up. One usually swings by here after dark to check on things."

"Yeah," her father concured handing the key to his son. "Mark, grab that gun and get the car back at the house pronto. You did good, Brenda."

The tight control she kept since the couple arrived crumbled as her father and brother left. Her hands shook so badly that she barely got the cigarette to her lips. It took several tries to light. She giggled nervously. She thought weird that she was not afraid of the couple. Well, not that afraid. Sure they gave the shotgun but they still had pistols and the obvious ability to use them. What she feared was getting caught in the middle of something. It had been a close thing. If it had been a female deputy instead of Underwood or he heard them in there or any of a dozen other scenerios where fecal matter could have impacted rotating blades.

"God knows if I stay here. I can too easily wind up with bullets in me like that woman or worse," she said to herself. "Either from some jackhole robbing the store or by some fool scheme of my family's that goes south."

Her Dad mentioned Tucson. Maybe she mused I should go there too. Check out the University of Arizona.

Anger burst forth. "No maybe about it!" she snared into the night. "There or Arizona State. Mike got the hell out of here. He had the right idea. Get online tonight. See when the transfer admission deadline is. I got the money to get started at least."

1 My toilet is your toilet

2 Pretty Damn Quick


End file.
